


fogged windows

by followsrabbit



Series: together again [5]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 03:21:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11304660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followsrabbit/pseuds/followsrabbit
Summary: "We haven't done it in a car, have we?"(Set during 4x10)





	fogged windows

Noora can’t believe they’re doing this. Can’t believe that she’s sneaking out of Sana’s party, William’s hand in hers, and running towards the car he parked a block away.

“It was your idea,” William replies through a laugh, when she says so aloud.

“Yeah. But your influence,” she whispers back, scanning the street for onlookers as William unlocks the car. He opens its door for her and pushes its seats all the way back. Without wasting a second, she takes his hand, slides inside, and pulls him in after her.

Then there’s just William’s body on top of hers—his palms wrapping around her hips and his chin moving against hers. Her hands curling through his hair and her lips molding against his. Before William, she hadn’t known it could be like this; that she could need to touch someone so much, that she could feel starved for it even when he had his hand in hers, his lips on hers, his gaze on her.

Leaving a friend’s party to fuck her boyfriend in the front seat of his Aston Martin isn’t something that she could ever have pictured herself doing two years ago. Certainly not in broad daylight. It’s something that she might have judged herself for doing, once— _definitely_ something she would have judged William for doing, circa 2015.

The car’s leather warms her shoulders, even through her dress. The center console is awkward against her spine, so she eases back until she’s splayed across the driver’s seat, her head resting against the door.

“I’ve influenced you?” William echoes, his mouth curving against hers.

“Mhm.” She drags his lower lip between her teeth before kissing him again, minding the steering wheel as she moves her arms. Her hands are on his chest now, hurrying the buttons of his shirt undone, because she’s not touching enough of him. Needs more. Needs the hardness of his abdomen and muscles, needs the solid weight of him, needs all of him. “Look where we are.”

It’s a cramped space, but maybe that’s what she wants right now—to feel as close to him as possible, even with the awkward narrowness of the seats, the nearness of the doors.

“I don’t know.” William teases the letters, almost breathes them, along her cheekbone. “I’ve never suggested a car.” One of his hands climbs up from her hips to her stomach to her chest, until he’s stroking her breast through her dress. He raises his other to tug at her zipper, before slipping her sleeves past her shoulders, his fingers past her bra. He keeps one hand there, circling the bud of her nipple, while his other falls back down to her waist, her hip.

Noora arches her back. “But you’ve thought about it.”

Her knees hike around his hips, wrinkling her dress, as William says, “Now I will.” He kisses her again, hard and long and slow. His mouth strikes a perfect pressure against hers, sending her hands up and down his back. Her fingernails leave a trail of crescent marks along the plane of his spine for his every taunt of her nipple.

His other hand drips from her hips to play with the hem of her dress, working its skirt higher and higher up her legs. Rubbing its polka dots against her thighs. His fingers follow, scorching and soothing her pale skin with their tips before finally reaching past the seam of her underwear.

“Are you sure?” he either says or mouths against her throat.

Noora nods her chin against his. “Don’t stop.”

He nods back before biting her lip for her, slipping one finger inside her, then two, and striking a tempo that sends her hips grinding against his. Slower, then faster. Her neck arcs back. Faster, then slower, then faster, faster—

Her head hits the car door. Noora muffles a moan against William’s shoulder, hooks her legs around his hips, and gropes for the zipper to his trousers. The car’s leather has only grown warmer, slicker beneath her back. She’s trembling against it now. “William,” she says through their next kiss, guiding his hard length between her legs. “William.” His fingers are still working her clit, still driving her body closer and closer to his, even as she falls apart. He trails his other hand down from her chest to grope through his pocket for a condom.

Back when they first started dating, when she’d only just stopped calling him _Wilhelm_ , he'd gotten a ridiculous amount of pleasure from the sound of his actual name on her lips. She might call him William all the time now, but he clearly still likes it when she moans his name.

He buries his forehead against her neck, and murmurs low, desperate words against her warm, warm skin.

Noora wraps her arms tighter around his neck, and loses her fingers among his hair. “ _William_.”

She feels the letters of her own name sink into her collarbone; feels the fast rhythm of his heart, the way it matches hers. _This_ is what she wanted—to feel their breaths and bodies sync, to fill her senses with him until there’s just _William_ and _so good_ and _so close_ and _yes, please, yes._

(She says it all.)

He says other things back— _Noora, so good, so fucking good, so beautiful, so—Noora—_

(She feels it all.)

* * *

They need to get back to the party—who knows how long they’ve been gone, how many people noticed them disappear, how many people have guessed _why_ they disappeared—but Noora can’t bring herself to move just yet. Even though the car is too warm, the windows blatantly fogged, the leather lined with their sweat, and the seats not long enough for them to lie across comfortably.

William doesn’t seem any more eager to get up. “So hot,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“We could turn the car on,” she suggests, "for air conditioning." Or get dressed and get out of the car. One of the two.

But he shakes his head. “I meant you in my car." He raises himself above her, just slightly, to comb his fingers through her rumpled hair.

Noora laughs into his face, then his mouth.

* * *

Later, once they’ve recollected themselves into their buttons and brushed their fingers through each other’s hair, they walk back to the party. Noora reapplies her lipstick too, though from the way William keeps smiling at her, she doubts the fresh coat will fool anyone.

Luck—good or poor, who knows—fixes Chris and Eva right in their path when they return. From the knowing smirk Chris gives William, the raised eyebrow Eva gives her, Noora guesses their absence hasn’t gone unnoticed.

William just shrugs, unperturbed even as Noora slants her face against his shoulder to hide the heat filling her cheeks. “Had to get something from the car,” he says.

Chris nods and nods. “Right.”

Eva laughs, grabs Noora by the hand, and pulls her towards their friends. (Noora thinks it says something about how much she’s loosened up since coming to Oslo that she’s laughing too when she turns back to grin a goodbye to her boyfriend.)

**Author's Note:**

> ...I know nothing about car sex, but I'm pretty sure I'm glamorizing it here.


End file.
